


Never Alone

by mementomoriarty



Series: Space Revolutionaries [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, I'm not sure how to tag this, M/M, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mementomoriarty/pseuds/mementomoriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's become clear that the Insurgents will never survive against the City's Armada. And yet, the cynic and the dreamer stand side by side, ready to face the end. Together, never alone. </p><p>"R saw a spark of something return to the captain’s eyes, a light with a name he couldn’t place. Not hope, not here, not at the end of all things, but still, something was there where nothingness was before. There was still the storm coming, but, perhaps the sun, too, would rise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

> So this originally started as an assignment for my Creative Writing class. I affectionately dubbed it my 'Les Misérables/Star Trek AU' even though it's not very Trekkie at all. Oddly enough, I've continued in this 'verse for a few drabbles, and with some prompting of my best friend, I'm posting it here. It's not quite e/R, but the parallels are obvious enough. Enjoy~
> 
> Edit: so I just saw Stark Trek Into Darkness and...wow. Okay. I just want it to be known *NO SPOILERS INTENDED* (if you happened to notice similarities) I wrote this in March...BUT THE MOVIE WAS SO AWESOME

E’s fingernails dug into his palms, leaving little red crescents imprinted into his skin as he stared out the windscreen. Not even the choked sound of the engines struggling for life were enough to distract the captain from his self-induced trance. He was waiting, ever so patiently, for the speck in the distance, for the signal, that meant that they were approaching. He was waiting.

Was he afraid? Perhaps. Nothing in his expression betrayed the tumult of emotions in his chest. He was, as ever, a marble statue with sharply defined features, face unchanging, made of stone, cold and distant. Whether he was frightened or not, E did not allow himself to show it, until something, or someone, cracked the exterior.

“We’re not gonna make it.”

R’s gravelly, usually loud and abrasively drunk voice, was now soft as he spoke the words that were just powerful enough to chip away at the marble. He sighed melodramatically, just loud enough to be heard, before tilting back his ever-present bottle and taking a swig. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the way it stung in the back of his throat. “E.” He said, still using his careful tone as he tried to get the captain’s attention.

E didn’t take his eyes off the windscreen of the ship, looking out into the endless amount of space, the never-ending universe, the place you reach after you’ve passed the horizon. It seemed to him that the darkness of space was reaching for him, feeling its blind way in through the ship, groping along the controls, past the buttons and the screens and the lights to invade his soul with its void and emptiness. The blackness was inescapable. It was coming for him, and only him, and it would not stop until it consumed him. The captain of the ship stood as stiffly as the trees that stood on their once-home-planet of Earth, tall and unmoving, with his hands behind his back. If it weren’t for his fraying, fading uniform of an old leather jacket and the red Insurgent’s kerchief, E would have looked fierce and regal, the paragon of a leader. Only, now his shoulders slumped and his eyes were beginning to match the raggedness of his clothing. It didn’t matter how much he believed in change, it wouldn’t come without a starting push, and the revolutionary was losing hope. His beliefs alone would change nothing. The ragtag group of rebels had always been playing at war, they weren’t ready when the City sent their armada, they weren’t ready to look Death in the eye, they weren’t prepared to lose.

“They’re coming.” said the captain slowly. As R approached, he could see the immeasurable sadness in his friend’s eyes. He smiled despite all the obvious reasons not to smile, usually their roles were very much reversed. The drunkard was the one who never had hope, while E was bursting with it. With hope on his wings, he soared, and he tried to bring R up with him. Now it was R’s turn to attempt to pull his friend from the pit. The difference being that E wouldn’t turn to the bottle in his hopelessness as R had. R didn’t say anything, merely grimaced and took another gulp of alcohol in reply. “They’re coming, R. We’ve lost the engines, the shields are down, and Nyne’s our only mechanic.”

“Back up?” Surely someone could come to their aid, there were others out there in the vast expanse of stars and planets, others who would take pity, others who would fight for freedom from the City, others who believed in E’s ideals just as strongly as E did. Surely, surely. There simply had to be, because if there weren’t people like E out there, it meant that R was right.

Because if there wasn’t, there wasn’t anything worth fighting for. And if R were honest (and he rarely was), that was more terrifying than the coming storm.

“We’re the only ones left.” E’s voice broke, faltered, cracked like the hull of the ship, the first sign his friend had ever seen that told him E feared the end. R looked down at the bottle in his hands, sighed, and set it aside. He didn’t believe in much, often he wondered if he believed in anything, but he believed in the revolutionary.

“Then we go down fighting.” He said with resolve, running his fingers through his tangled mess of curls, straightening his jacket, and standing at attention beside his captain. This show of faith, coming from the cynic, the drunkard and self-proclaimed coward, was almost enough to break his friend. He had never asked for such devotion from his first-mate, and yet R insisted on it, in his way. The brothers in arms knew each other well enough to know that.

“You don’t have to stay, R. I’ve already given the order, they’re sending pods off now.” E still didn’t look away from the windscreen, where, in just a few hours, bigger, larger, stronger ships would fill his field of vision and shoot their little vehicle down. R didn’t have to look at him to see the pain that filled his eyes, it colored his voice, and R knew that he wasn’t leaving. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to, not with his friend standing here staring into the heart of death itself. He wouldn’t leave him to do that alone. Never alone.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, captain.”

“What?”

“Don’t you know the effect you have on people?” R grinned, a lopsided grin of one perpetually a little intoxicated. E looked at him then, his mouth turning into a frown and his brow furrowing. R raised an eyebrow at him, but he gave no indication of understanding. The first-mate gave a dramatic sigh. “Are you kidding? No? You really don’t realize, do you? Your passion is contagious.”

R saw a spark of something return to the captain’s eyes, a light with a name he couldn’t place. Not hope, not here, not at the end of all things, but still, something was there where nothingness was before. There was still the storm coming, but, perhaps the sun, too, would rise.

“Never alone?” E asked, the ghost of a smile passing over his lips as he did.

R picked up his bottle for one final mouthful, wiping his face on his sleeve and smiling grimly at the captain. “Never.”

“See about the engines.” E said, and R saw the mask go back on, the resolute captain stood where his friend had once been. There was no chance of repairing the engines in time, and R barely resisted pointing that out. “We’ll continue this later.”

“I don’t see much to continue, captain.” The first-mate replied with a shrug, before disappearing from the bridge to follow his orders. E remained alone in the bridge, with only the faint beeping and whirring of machines and the darkness of space to keep him company.

He ran his fingers over the cool, smooth surface of the control boards, momentarily comforted by their familiarity. For a moment, briefer than the comfort brought by his ship, he wondered how long she would still be in the air, how long until she was nothing more than shards of metal floating aimlessly through space, how long until he would go down with her.

He would go down with her.

E squared his shoulders with a kind of determination to remain courageous right into the very end. That was what the people needed. Was this what freedom demanded of him? He would give it, willingly, gladly so.

But what if

What if it meant nothing?

He did not allow himself to ponder these thoughts any longer. He crossed the bridge with a decidedly firm step, dropping into the captain’s chair and tapping a combination into the control pad. “How are the engines looking, R?”

He was surprised to hear Nyne’s voice answer him instead. “We’re doing what we can, cap, but the capacitor’s blown on the left, and we’ve always known the wiring’s bad on the right—”

“What she’s trying to say is,” R cut in, interrupting the mechanic midstream. “They’re screwed.”

E passed a hand over his face wearily. “Alright. Both of you, get as many of the crew together as you can, get as many of them as you can fit into the pods, and leave. Fly towards Rexel, there’ll be City patrols looking out for us anywhere near our solar system. Disappear as best you can.”

“Captain—”

“R. That’s an order.”

Before his first-mate could argue with him, E cut off communications with the engine room, before dropping his head into his hands. As expected, R burst into the bridge moments later, practically fuming.

“I gave you an order.” E stated plainly, and R looked like he’d been slapped in the face.

“I said I wasn’t leaving—”

The captain stood up out of his chair abruptly, whirling on him. “R, take Nyne and Mauri and get out of here, understand? I don’t want you here.”

R winced. “You don’t actually mean that.” He said, and E could tell he wasn’t even trying to hide how drunk he was at this point because there was something broken in his voice.

“I’m begging you.” He said softly.

“Can’t you feel it?” R continued, ignoring the captain’s whispered plea. “When you talk, you talk about ‘the flame of revolution.’ But it’s not really the flame of revolution, is it? No, it’s your own fire! It burns sometimes, but it brings light and warmth to other people around you. You know that. You think I’d still be here if it weren’t so? Fat chance. Your crew is willing to die for freedom, just as much as you are. I’ve told you that. What will it take to make you believe it?”

“They’re staying?”

“The entire crew’s staying! Every single one!”

“R, I need you to leave. I need you to take as many of them as you can.”

“Screw that! We’re staying. You can court-marshall us in the morning.”

“I can’t deal with knowing all of you stayed because of me. I’m begging you, R. Please, go.”

R was silent for a long moment, his speech done, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m sorry.” He murmured carefully, and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But you’re going to have to suck it up. No one’s going anywhere.”

E shook his head.

“They’re staying because they believe in you.”

No answer.

“As for me, well, I think you’re all idiots.” The cynic shrugged and, having given his speech, gave the comment E expected of him, though a smile played on his lips.

“They why do you stay, R?” E asked finally, with the easy familiarity of someone who’d had this conversation more than once.

“Well, what would it look like if I were the only one to use an escape pod? You’ve got to think these things through, captain. I’d be shunned as a coward, and I simply couldn’t have that.”

The captain shook his head in disbelief at his friend, and he laughed. In the distance, the first wave of the Armada was beginning to come into view. Clouds of ships were forming just at the edges of their vision.

“Not to mention, captain, if you’re going to die, I might as well be there with you.”

 

Years later, after the War, on the surface of Earth, they built a monument. The captain and his first-mate stood tall, looking out over the people made free, their marble features forever set in grim determination. These men, the cynic and the dreamer, who, by dying, inspired a revolution.


End file.
